


All In A Name

by Yuni30



Series: Nymph Hugs [5]
Category: Ni no Kuni
Genre: Aliases, Brotherhood, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Childhood, Childhood Memories, False Memories, Gen, Memories, Name Changes, Names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 03:45:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13966641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuni30/pseuds/Yuni30
Summary: Names can hold meaning and even memories, especially for a certain thief.(This work can also be found as a drabble chapter for "Nymph Hugs" over on Fanfiction.net along with its sibling works.)





	All In A Name

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Like A Brother](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/363645) by Wherever Girl. 



> So, I decided to do this while playing around in the post-game. Did you know you can have the characters in your party cycle through them calling to each other before battling an enemy for moments on end? I find it amusing. I especially like to switch between Swaine and Marcassin just to hear Marcassin call his brother by is original name.
> 
> This sparked the following chapter, mostly because everyone else in the party calls him "Swaine".
> 
> Disclaimer: I wish I owned the rights to Ni No Kuni. I'd include cutscenes for things that don't get mentioned. I can't though.

It had been an argument all morning. The group was beginning to wonder if anything would get done that day as the two brothers volleyed between the two names of the oldest. They sat across from each other, gazes locked, bodies fixed like statues unless one or the other gestured to something.

The young wizard had tried to get the thief in their midst to drop the subject but was met with adamant glares from both sides of Hamelin royalty. It became clear that there was no end- they'd continue their campaigns until the other fell. The boy turned away, looking to Esther, Pea, and Drippy, a silent plea for back up.

Esther tried her hand, but the familiar tamer was met with even greater resistance- the older brother snapping at her to mind her own business. The fairy chimed in after her, reinforcing the attempt to quell the seemingly meaningless match between the two princes, that since they all shared a room- it was cheaper (Marcassin had always wanted to try staying in an inn)- it became their business the moment they started.

It was like moving the iron walls of Hamelin itself, getting them to quit. Pea finally made the suggestion of leaving them alone. Though was more along the lines of wanting to explore the mechanical city outside, but it served the same purpose. As they left the two to stew in their own vortex of sibling rivalry, Oliver asked if there was anything they wanted. They didn't answer, their argument still not going anywhere. He received a side glance from Swaine, a glance the boy had learned meant, "leave me alone" after too many times of going too far over his bounds.

The wizard was the last to leave. He paused at the door when he heard the older man warn him not to take side alleyways for Pea's safety. Oliver nodded, turning to see if they had moved, but the thief had gone back to scowling at his brother, picking up the bottle of Sage's Secret he'd been using as an example all morning to attempt to win his side of the argument. Even if they'd gone back to fussing over something the rest of them considered pointless, Oliver was thankful for his friend's concern for their safety exploring the vast city.

"And I say, 'Gascon'," the ruler abstinently replied to his brother. He refused to call him by that pseudonym he had come up with. What was wrong with his original name? No, he was always going to be "Gascon" to him. It didn't matter if his brother called himself "The King of the Hoggle-Boggles" he'd still call him by the name he was born with.

Swaine let a low growl escape him. He slammed the potion onto the bed for the hundredth time that day. Never mind the fact that the Empire's army would've been looking for him under that identity, he honestly couldn't understand why his brother stuck with calling him that old moniker. He hated it. He hated who he was then. He left it and the Empire behind to find his own identity. It was a reminder of all his failures as the possible heir to the throne. But his brother kept throwing it back at him.

"I told you, call me 'Swaine', from now on," he repeated for what felt like maybe eternity. It was like an endless loop, this farce. He finally threw his arms up in bewilderment, a change in countenance to the previous bitter and stagnant face off. "Why do you insist on calling me that? You want everyone to know who the hell I am?"

The younger brother raised a quizzical eyebrow. It wasn't that at all. He was proud of his brother's name. It, to the sage, was a strong name that commanded respect. "No, but does it matter? That's who you are and who you always will be to me," he confided, hoping that his words did anything but anger Gascon more. He soon regretted his choice, the rugged man before him leaning back suddenly with his mouth ajar.

The jacket clad thief gripped the sheets as he leaned forward, his face stern. "You'd rather remember me as the older brother who abandoned you? Who wasn't there when you needed him most? Who turned his back on his country," Swaine interrogated, pain seeping into his words, though his expression un-wavered. The younger prince's words stabbed him in the heart. He had hated going back to the past in the first place. Seeing himself, his past actions, it reminded him all too well of his negligence and inexperience. That's why he was so adamant about his name. "Swaine" was a different person- he had reasoned. "Swaine" was just a man, no nobility about him, that tried to survive. No power, no magic, no one to impress- he was just a common beggar to the everyday person.

His brother didn't see it that way. Marcassin still saw the young prince that had left all those years ago. He still saw his teacher, mentor, and only surviving family member. He saw what his predecessor was- the original heir to controlling the entire Empire. Most importantly, he still saw him as his brother. "If you had truly abandoned me, brother, you would have never returned." He observed as Swaine looked away from him in a vain attempt to hide a wounded look. "As for the rest…," he paused. He looked down at the plush royal blue carpet that covered the metal floor as if the fibers held all the answers to his older brother's questions.

The Dark Djinn would probably still be continuing his reign of terror without the support his brother had provided them in their battle. He realized then that, aside from a handing over a few spells and some magic used to help finish the Clarion, he was completely outclassed by his older brother in actual effort. He looked up at the glowering man, and though Marcassin was a ruler, he felt like a peasant in his older brother's presence. "All the magic in the world and I couldn't even join the battle, brother," he began, earning a baffled look from Swaine.

It was the thief's turn to raise an eyebrow in confusion. "What are you on about," he asked, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders, his once clenched hands flying up before returning to the cream sheets of the large bed.

"You've outdone me at every turn. You actually helped Oliver face the Dark Djinn, Ga-," he cleared his throat, remembering his brother's qualms. He looked at his right hand, shame gracing his delicate features. "You were there for him. You fought alongside him. You helped make him as powerful as he is now. And I, a Great Sage? I sat in my palace giving orders and practicing politics while you and Esther fought alongside the savior of this world." He looked up to meet Swaine's now softened but concerned gaze, his hands now resting on his knees. The younger took his prior's hands in his. "I know you not as the version you remember." Before the thief could interject or pull away as he was wont to do, Marcassin gripped his brother's hands and leaned forward his expression earnest.

"I remember a brave and determined Gascon: a brother and prince wise beyond his royal instruction. I remember the brother who would design machines beyond my own imagination- who's eyes lit ablaze when a new contraption rolled out of a workshop." He watched as the corners of his brother's mouth twitched, a sign his words were reaching him at least. "I remember my mentor- my closest friend- so enthusiastically asking me to help him put together a model pig tank and how excited he was to see it work. That's the Gascon I remember- and I could never do what he does or has done."

A moment of silence passed before either said a word to each other. Each of them stared in contemplation at their clasped hands dangling over the carpet.

Swaine- no, Gascon had always thought himself as the inferior one, despite being the older brother. To hear his brother's true thoughts on the matter- to hear that he held him in such high regard despite his lack of magic ability- had shattered his argument and his resolve on the name issue. It had also warmed his heart and made his soul soar with joy. One thing bothered the older prince, though: his brother seemed to be putting himself down prior to all of that.

He finally looked back to Marcassin, disappointed to see that, despite his earlier praise, the young ruler seemed bothered. He saw an uncertain and even unconfident look, a look he had only seen when his heart was broken. "Marcassin," he called out, his voice calm and steady, guiding his sibling's head as he slowly looked up.

"You did your part, and you did it exceptionally. Hell, if you hadn't given Oliver those spells or knew anything about prepping the Clarion, we'd be in an awful way." He proudly smiled at his brother. "We couldn't have beaten him without your help."

Marcassin was at a loss for words. He simply stared at Gascon, his hands going slightly slack, but otherwise still holding onto his brother's. Had he really forgotten how useful he himself had been? He mentally berated himself for being foolish. He looked down before apologizing for forgetting his role in the entire ordeal.

The thief took this opportunity to release his hands from his brother's loosened grip. His smile devolved into a smirk and he studied the bedside table adorned with tiny pig head shaped handles on the drawers. He scratched the back of his head, fighting the mess of curly brown hair and looked at his brother. "Oh and… Don't worry about the name. Call me whatever you like." He paused, realizing the loophole in his rationale. "Just nothing too ridiculous."

Marcassin's form loosened up from the stiff awkwardness of the situation. He leaned forward in surprise, a gleeful smile on his face. "So, I can call you 'Lord Hoggle-Boggle'," he teased.

Gascon grimaced, the silliness of the name too much for even him. He waved it off as it were an annoying insect. "Hey, now." He stopped, a sly grin crawling into existence. He straightened up as much as he could with a hunch, attempting a regal look with his hand on his chest. "That's 'Lord High, Lord of the Hoggle-Boggles' to you, 'your highness'," he joked mockingly, stealing the fairy's schtick for the sake of it.

The two of them laughed together in what felt like decades. The joke had, for the moment, transported them to happier days of their childhood. When the laughter died down, the older of the princes announced he was going to lay down, calling it a day. The younger nodded, left to his own devices until the others returned.

"Marcassin," the older prince called. Sleep began to catch him, but the warmth of his gratitude seeped into his voice.

The younger who had gotten up to inspect a painting on the wall of the room turned to his brother. He could only see the back of Gascon, his jacket acting as a makeshift sheet for the thief.

"Thank you… For believing in me."

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing for these two. If you haven't noticed, the Series Title actually comes from the first work's context. However, I like to imagine Marcassin is nymph-like, thereby justifying my writing about him and Swaine (and keeping Gemini the Greater Naiad in the thief's brood of familiars).
> 
> The argument they're having is also based on an ongoing argument between me and my mother about my name. I don't like my name for… historical reasons.
> 
> Personal stuff aside: Check out the _[The Cats Cradle](https://www.fanfiction.net/forum/The-Cat-s-Cradle/177310/)_ forum for this game made by **[Wherever Girl](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2005234/Wherever-Girl)**! It's great! You can discuss theories, pairings, plot holes, or just your favorite parts of the game! (Mine's the Hamelin arc if you haven't noticed.)
> 
> Anyway. I hope you enjoyed this drabble. Here's to more- if there are more. I wonder if these drabbles would be more effective as one-shots, but I don't know if I can repost content as stand-alone stories like that… I'll have to check the Guidelines.
> 
> I'd like to hear people's thoughts. (I bet they're just shy. It's okay. I won't bite. I promise.) If you're new, please, review anyway


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